


VERENDUS

by Lorein_nur



Series: Verendus [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Genderbending, Kid needs help, Loving May, Mafia AU, Peter is a girl!, Precious Trish (Peter Parker), Tony is Overprotective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorein_nur/pseuds/Lorein_nur
Summary: New York 1935, Trish Parker was on her way to deliver a letter when all hell broke loose on the busy streets. Due to fates twisted sense of humor she found herself caught in the middle of a mafia disspute, if a stray bullet doesn’t kill her May sure as hell would.





	1. FIRST ENCOUNTER

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This has been a work in progress, the longest I have dedicated time to be honest, so it means a lot that you are willing to take the time to give this a shot.
> 
> Ps. Though the story is complete I will be posting weekly. :)

**Flushing, Queens NY 1935, 8:45 am**

 

 

The crisp autumn wind nipped insistently at the heels of her worn oxfords, the click-clack becoming the self-made soundtrack that followed her as she made way through the hustle and bustle of the never-resting city. Trish Parker, one of the many New Yorkers struggling on a day to day basis to make a living, found herself with a self-imposed mission. She'd woken up that Saturday morning with the intent clear in mind to mail over a letter to the National Youth Administration. That being the sole reason, the 17-year-old threaded her way through Roosevelt, flimsy manila envelope tight in hand, the edges constantly crinkling with the slightest pressure induced.  

 

She’d been hesitant at first, not at the idea of continuing her studies, but rather of actually going forth and requesting financial aid to do so. After Uncle Ben's tragic passing, money had become tight, well tighter than it already was at the Parker household. Aunt May had been forced into seeking out more shifts at the hospital, in order to pay the bills, as well as have them moved from their original home to a studio apartment near the train tracks on Main. That’s what had been eating at Trish, knowing that May was barely making ends meet and that at this point Trish was serving more as a burden than any actual help, but, if she was selected as a candidate for the NYA, life would become marginally better. 

 

All her hopes were written down in permanent ink and tightly held close to heart, whilst concealed in a corner store bought envelope. Trish wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated by the challenges she would come to face as a woman, much less one seeking higher education, no, she was however outright terrified of finding May and herself homeless. Which was why she’d convinced herself, like many dreamers do, that if she was fortunate enough to qualify for the program, not only would her college expenses be dealt with by the government, but she would be taking on a job as well, as per the rules of the trade, as stated by the U.S government. All in all, it was an opportunity she simply could not allow herself to shy away from.  

 

So, with resolve firmly in place, Trish prowled forward towards the nearest mailbox to the shabby brownstone apartment they now tenanted.  Her oxfords slapping noisily over the Portland cement used to make the street. She stood taller, with her head held high and shoulders back, managing to look regal despite the unappealing brown knit coat hanging off her lean figure, the excess fabric swallowing her whole. New Yorkers trotted around the scrawny girl, uncaring in making eye contact with large hazel eyes. A copper mailbox stood erect but a few paces away, all she had to do was slip the letter through its flap and head back home. Anticipation led to her senses to come to life, she could practically feel the coldness of the metal pinching her fingertips, the little trembles that would course throughout her body, kinetic energy at its finest. 

 

A lovely idea that was not brought into fruition, mind, not because her will withered or her spirits broke at the last second. Rather, due to the rude awakening of the sound of rubber tires screeching to an accelerated stop. Its echo encircled her like a noose to the neck,  the consequent smell of burnt rubber barely registered, at the resounding bang of a pistol being fired in her general vicinity.

 

Panicked screams erupted around her, men and women fleeing the space in disorganized haste. Trish froze, eyes opened wide in terror, vision focused on the armed men exiting the vehicle. All impeccably dressed in forest green suits with a red on black logo depicting a human skull in a Kraken like incarnation sewn onto the left bicep. HYDRA, for who else could it be?, one of New York's most volatile and unhinged mafia families. Everyone in and out of the state knew to steer clear from the glorified mercenaries, and yet here she was, slowly being surrounded by them, like a helpless doe being prowled upon by wolves. 

 

Another shot rang out, this time common sense kicked in and her fight or flight instincts forced her to drop down in an intelligent crouch, knees and hands scraping with the motion on the rough ground; the mailbox serving as her buffer. The normally populous street now lay barren save for a few stragglers, HYDRA men, and Trish herself. She was trembling, every bone in her body quivering in staccato, every muscle being wrought tighter the closer the footsteps came. She was trapped, essentially surrounded from all angles, was this how she would die? Trish wondered.  

 

"Psst, hey, kid!" A  voice whisper shouted in her direction. Trish briskly turned, the joints in her neck snapping with the agitation, startled eyes zeroing in on its owner. There, a man stiffly stood, his body tucked away between two brownstones, back laying flat to the gravely surface, upper torso awkwardly bent in order to face her. The shadows surrounding him made it practically impossible for Trish to distinguish any prominent features, still, what little light made way through the speedily chosen hiding spot was enough to help her make out his narrowed eyes. 

 

“On the count of three, you run towards me.”  He softly ordered, eyes leaving her, head tilting just the slightest to get a clearer view of the men advancing on them and their poorly selected hideouts. 

 

“ _What?!”_ Trish whispered horror coating her choked out reply, eyes going wild with dread. The stranger's eyes rounded back onto her, sharp, alert.

 

“On three, _you run towards me!_ ” He repeated, the words being practically hissed through clenched teeth. 

 

Approaching footsteps and the sound of gruff voices arguing made her heart sink into her stomach. She nodded, seeing no other alternative to this mess. The outline of what could barely be discerned as a hasty smile was directed at her, before the man sunk further into the alleyway, becoming fully consumed within its shadows. Her heart stopped. A glint of iron soared through the air and over her head, landing next to the poorly parked Ford the men had driven in. Seconds passed, an explosion followed.

 

“ _Three!_ ” 

 

Trish got up, and ran, the crumpled envelope left forgotten on the ground.

 

She vaulted into the teeny tiny alleyway and barreled into awaiting open arms, shots ringing loudly behind her. The man maneuvered her around, effectively blocking the entrance with his back.

 

“Go, go, go!” The urgency tainting the words was clear, she responded in turn. Trish flew down the cramped alley, her unexpected savior no more than two steps behind, footfalls echoing loudly in the enclosure. HYDRA’s inducted hitmen were fast approaching, a darkened brick burst into a mixture of clay and sand dust inches from her head, she felt a brisk tug at the collar of her coat, felt herself being pulled back into a pinstripe clothed chest, effectively saved from having her brain matter being splattered over the wall like an uneven coat of varnish. Her paladin grunted, bullets rained down upon them, holes were left sunken in the granular blocks.

 

“ _Shit!_ ” The man cursed, before turning around and firing. The stilling thud of a body hitting the ground was faintly registered within her mind. Trish was being pushed, herded at full speed out of the narrowed street and forced to break through into the blinding light of the cloud concealed sun. The newly formed speed bump giving them the precious seconds needed to go forth with such a feat. She was left panting, rendered helpless out of breath, the passed down coat an unwelcome anchor in their current situation. And yet, it was within that stilted moment, where she has finally broken through the shadow’s and into the light that she was able to get a glimpse at her impromptu hero. Large brown eyes framed with even larger eyelashes stare back at her, along with an unmistakable goatee of finely trimmed hair. 

 

Anthony Stark   

 

“Come on kid, don’t stop!” The fabric at the back of her coat got bunched up again in the billionaire's unyielding grasp, she got pulled, anew, forced into motion, she allowed it. Trish let herself be manhandled from one street corner to the next, body in full motion, mind a blank slate. She was pushed beyond her limits, heart beating in an unending cadence. The labyrinth that was Queen's underbelly overwhelming her, swallowing her whole.  


	2. STRAYS

**9:17 am**

 

Anthony Stark had lived a life founded on luxuries and hard work. Each consisting of a symbiotic trade in which both parties give and take; he was a mechanic, a certified engineer, a highly educated man who was known for his smarts and charm. Above all he was New York's Iron Man, the only man both feared and loved in equal parts, the head of the Stark familia New York’s dominating mafia group, and he had just dragged a little girl all over Queens.

 

“Le-let go!”

 

He did, no hesitation evident in the action, she crumbled at his side, knees clanking loudly on the dirty ground, shoulders, and head fully hunched. He winced, recoiling himself, both in surprise and as an attempt to appease her. His right shoulder blade ached with the move, hot white pain searing its way up his side. The trepid silence was broken by the beginning of a sob, the air being choked out through parted lips, not even the extra fabric hid the shudders that rack the kid's body. He swallowed, thickly, before squaring his shoulders, pain be damned, and slowly, cautiously kneeling down in front of her.

 

“Sh, sh,” He hushed, bringing his left arm up, hand extended towards a wet cheek. “It’s ok Piccola, you’re ok.” He crooned, hand cupping the soft flesh, thumb idly grazing over the damp skin, curving over still present baby fat and scattered freckles. Tony knew they need to keep moving, that they couldn’t be stagnant for longer than a moment or two, and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny her the breakdown she’d been building up to, it didn’t sit right, so he stayed. Becoming bolder by the second, he shifted his hand from one damp cheek to the back of her neck, gentle as he pulled her closer and into his chest, daring to enfold her within the cage of his arms. She went willingly, like a puppet with no strings, collapsing in on herself. It was odd, surreal in its entirety, he found himself completely out of his comfort zone, but willing to try.

 

The tentative hug was reciprocated, cold bitten arms made their way around him, settling under and around his shoulders. He felt warmth seeping in, sweet and dazzening, like a furnace, until he didn’t. She pulled back with a startled gasp, and looked down, he did so with her, only to find the palm of her left hand coated in the sticky red of his blood.

 

“You’re hurt” She murmured, subconsciously clenching her hand open and closed, feeling the texture change as the liquid cooled and dried off. He didn’t stop her, too enraptured himself in the innocently macabre display. A rat scurried past their crouched forms, tripping over itself on discarded newspaper, she looked up. Glossy hazel met deep brown, she took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling the smell of piss that riddled the way while doing so, a new found resolve clashing with primal fear within that startling gaze.

 

“Turn over and take your suit jacket off, I gotta look over the wound.”

 

He pulled back in alarm, just enough to be at arm's length, and able to offer the most gobsmacked face he possessed within his impressive arsenal.

 

“Excuse me?” He managed to intone, utter disbelief at being ordered around, much less by what he was starting to identify as a child. She frowned, cheeks puffing up minimally with the effort, a challenging look taking over her eyes.

 

“I said,” she stood, “turn around,” clomping over to his back, “ and take your jacket,” her small hands grabbed hold of the finely trimmed cloth “off!” before unceremoniously tugging it from his tense shoulders. He toppled back, falling hard on his ass, the back of the pants getting stained by whatever filth litters the ground.

 

“The fuck!” He yowled, the sound of his once pristine white shirt being ripped apart followed. A low drawn-out whistle was heard from behind him, chilled fingertips prodded at the angry red skin where the bullet went in.

 

“We’re gonna have to pull it out,” Was the cool assessment, followed by a second thought, “...and you’re gonna need stitches.”

 

Well fuck, he thought, the air stilling around them as he let his temporary kids actions register in his mind. Tony blinked leisurely, before taking hold of what little face he had left in the situation and forced his body to stand, he offered in the process a hand to help his unwilling companion do the same. She took hold of it easily, returning the favor by assisting him back into the unceremoniously jerked jacked. He whispered a low thank you and was rewarded with the shyest of smiles, for reasons he couldn’t grasp the meaning of, Tony found it adorable, found her adorable. Still, it was high time they move, the thought crawled its way into the forefront of his mind, he walked over to the opening of the alley, cautious to stay well within its shadows,Trish didn’t need to be told to do the same, she followed his example, going so far as to throw cursoring glances over her shoulder every fourth to fifth pace, eyes sharp and at the ready. His lips twitched minimal upwards, in the effort to smile. Adorable, his mind practically sang.

 

A peek at a proudly nailed sign confirmed their location, they had left Roosevelt behind, but had maintained a perpendicular trajectory with Main, unsurprisingly. However in their mad dash, Tony had ended up making it so they popped up from the intersection at North Boulevard, a tentatively growing park laid ahead of them, just across the street. Normally, this would be the part where he’d cut his losses and leave his disgruntled companion on their own, throw some cash their way and bid them farewell.  He couldn't this time. As much as it pained him, the actions he’d taken in order to save the kids life had now just as equally doomed her. HYDRA would now come to associate her as his, that was a thought best left locked tight in the back of his mind, for now. He needed medical attention, that much was clear, however they were at an impasse, too far from being at a safe walking distance from his car, and too near for it not to be a death sentence on its own, what with the lunatics scouring the streets in a vain attempt to find him, find them. He felt stumped.

 

A small hand found its way to his shoulder, the cold seeping in despite the added layers that covered it.

 

“We need to get you to a hospital” She reminded him for the second time, voice just as quiet as before, words remarkably, strong. He nodded absentmindedly, before reeling back as the meaning sets in. He turned and faced her fully grasping the shrugged off appendage between both of his palms, impulsively rubbing his fingers over the dainty bone structure in an effort to bring forth warmth.

 

“ _I can’t_ ” he hesitated, hoping that in those two words he had managed to stress the gravity of the situation, of what the repercussions for entering such an establishment would end up meaning for him, for them. She remained silent, apprehensively chewing on her bottom lip. The street in front of them remained peaceful, disturbed but by the rare passerby’s that loiter it, as well as the stray car.   
  
“You need medical attention” The brunette urged, the crease between her eyes deepening, fingers clenching, trapped between both his palms. “Kid,” he paused, letting the word hang in the air, “I’d get arrested on sight.” Trish visibly shuddered, eyelids closing in revolt, thoughts drenched in disgust at the idea of finding one's arrest more pressing than offering aid.   
  
“Turn around please.” He did, surprising both of them at his quick surrender.  “Thank you” was breathed onto his back, cold fingers returning to the lapels of his coat, gentle, this time around when peeling the material off, the frigid air hitting him harder the second time around, there was no adrenaline coursing through his veins this time, no primal need to run, to hide.  “Here,” she pushed the thick fabric onto his good hand, he ended up grabbing it more on reflex, the urge to obey unexpectedly ingrained in his head.   
  
The sound of clothing being ripped sliced through the silence, the feeling of having said cotton pushed inside the bullet wound, inside his pulsing and thriving layers of flesh effectively popped the little safety bubble her words had lulled him into. Tony breathed heavily through his mouth, finding his body firmly wrecked. A mantra of softly, genuinely spoken ‘Sorry, I’m sorry,” and “Almost done, _you are doing so well._ ” become his white noise. The rest of the world crumbled around him like Pompey once did, it was swallowed up and drowned in ash, the blazing heat that followed, unforgiving.   


  
He was helped back into is coat, white it took him two-three minutes to gather his bearings on reality once again, Trish stood to his left, kneading little circles into his back, away from where she had practically violated his aching shoulder. “I’m sorry” she mumbled again, head ducked, eyes to the ground, “It was the only way.”  and damn it all, if he didn’t find himself already forgiving her.   
  
“It’s fine” and, the funny thing was, he meant it. Another car passed by the nearly barren street, picking dust in its wake, the molecules flying high in the air before an ignoble decent. Tony perked up, a glint lighting up within the chocolate of his eyes. “Stay here,” he pressed, going so far as to indicate the desire with his hand, index finger pointed downwards towards the alleged spot.  “And don’t move unless I say otherwise.” With that he left, turning his back on the hurt look thrown his way, he opted to ignore it and exited the mouth of the way.   
  
Tony made a sharp turn to the left, walking the short distance to where the block ended, and waited, hands casually shoved within the pockets of his jacket, fedora pulled low over his brows. He stood there, letting the seconds tick by, back facing the uneven brownstone wall, picking up his gaze from the floor only at the sound of an oncoming vehicle. He stepped forward and made his way onto the middle of the street, blocking it from moving along.   
  
Rubber tires shrieked to a stop, he pulled back the opening flaps of his jacket and flashed the driver with the holster for his gun. The man trembled, pudgy hands sweating over the leather wheel. Tony nodded his head to the side, the grey-suited man exited the car, hasty to take his leave.   
  
“Wise choice” he acknowledged, before settling himself on the driver's seat and peeling off the street, only stopping to park at the entrance of North Boulevard. The girl peeked out, recognition set in. Tony motioned with his hand for her to walk forward, she did, scurrying her way down the nearly empty street. She didn’t climb onto the passenger seat as he’d hoped, surprising him instead by rounding her way over to his side. Pale hands with neatly trimmed nails curving over the windows opening in the metal door. Green eyes glaring at him from over a button nose scrunched up in clear displeasure, the dusting of freckles layered over the rosy-tinged skin popping.     
  
“Did you just steal a car?” Trish asked, disbelief heavily coated over the words. Tony shrugged, or, attempted to until a flash of pain reminded him of the bullet’s still dug into his muscle and fat.   
  
“Kid, just get in.”   

“Wha- _no!_ ” Was the indignant abolishment he received in return. “T-that is a stolen vehicle, and I want absolutely no part of this-this theft!” He rolled his eyes, hoping to convey just how exasperated he was with the entire mess of a day he’d had. He leaned forward, rough textured hands firmly gripping softer ones.

 

“Look, you don’t wanna get in? That’s fine, in fact, it's peachy!”  Tony breathed into the chilled air, only pausing in the hopes of stressing the gravity of what was to come “-but just remember that HYDRA, you know, the armed lunatics that were aiming at your head, aren't that far away from here.” He backed away from the window, releasing her hands in the process, reclining back onto the linen seat and waited, smugness growing and lying in wait just beneath the surface of his skin. Trish gaped at him, then pouted, a furious blush overtaking her, but stubbornly refused to budge, crossing her arms over her chest, the extra fabric of her coat settling itself in awkward creases around her arms and shoulder. He lifted his left eyebrow, then nods in recognition.

 

“Alright then,” Tony began, deftly starting the car's engine “just remember,” he turned away from her and faced the road, “I warned you.” She paled. He revved the engine and shifted the stick from park to neutral, making a show of the procedures, unnecessarily pressing on the gas pedal, with the action conjuring a cloud of chemically induced smoke. She threw herself over the front of the Chevy, arms racketing over the polo green engine cover. “Don’t!” she screamed at him over the windshields, Tony shifted the stick to park. She detached herself, clumsily, before all but stomping her way over to the passenger seat, slamming the door loudly in the process.

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you kid” Tony cheerfully intoned, unable to bite back the remark, he threw a toothy grin her way, for good measure and drove, leaving Queens behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys thanks for reading, hope your enjoying this as much as I did writing it! 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments or kudos they are greatly appreciated but never mandatory! 
> 
> Have a great start to the week! :D


	3. RESTITUTION

**9:49 am**

 

They drove in silence. Both too lost in thoughts running within the confines of their minds. Trish, had at one point requested that Tony drop her off near where her shared apartment resided, only to be promptly shut down. “It’s too dangerous kid” Tony had replied, “We can’t risk it.” He’d added on. She’d clamped up after that, all but avoiding any and all interactions with the man. He hadn’t minded, more than willing to give her her space, in return for his own, or, more accurately, the silence hadn’t gotten to him at that point exactly, but after twenty minutes of what Trish must have perceived as aimless driving Tony was damn close to snapping. The constant flow of blood dripping its way down his shoulder and back wasn't helping, not that the kid had done a poor job clotting it or anything. 

 

He drummed his fingers over the steering wheel, side glancing Trish every offbeat in the improvised song. Her head was tilted towards the window, long elegant neck in full display, what was formerly carefully coiled hair, now loose and wildly framing her face. He bit his bottom lip, releasing it within the following beat of his improve tune, before clearing his throat, the sound grainy and coarse. 

 

“Seems like in my rush to get us out of harm's way I forgot my manners,” Trish turned, interest peaked at the words, and fully aware of when an invitation for conversation was being dealt. “Can’t really say I blame you” Was the easy reply. Tony grinned, displaying just the slightest upturn at the corner of his lips, smoothly bringing the Chevy to a stop at a red light. He took the opportunity of the preferred time and bodily turned and extending his good hand. “Anthony Edward Stark, at your service Miss…?” She stared, wide-eyed, before thickly swallowing and taking ahold of the coarse limb. “Trish Parker sir.” Tony smiled all cheeky mirth and gleaming teeth. He brought her dainty hand to his lips and favored her knuckles with a gallant kiss. “Well, Miss. Parker, it's an unexpected honor to make your acquaintance.” He lightly teased, pulling back as the light changed to green. The car cruised its way along the street. “Likewise Mr. Stark, likewise.” Trish finally breathed.

 

The car practically flew over Queensboro Bridge, East River a gleaming spectacle in the early morning light. “Where are we heading towards?” Trish ventured to ask, the lapse in conversation become suffocating. Tony peered at her from the corner of his eye, “A friends” he drawled. She hummed absentmindedly, a thoughtful look taking over her face. “Am I a hostage now?” She lightly pressed, the car skewered sideways, raucous honking from neighboring vehicles followed the action, perspiration beaded its way to the surface on his forehead and the nape of his neck. “What- no kid, no!” Tony rushed to steady the car, stepping on the gas and turning sharply on 1st. He parked in a matter of minutes, already hyperventilating. 

 

By the time Trish had gathered her bearings from the fast-paced actions Tony was running trembling fingers through pomade covered strands of hair, his large eyes stared back at her uneasily.  

 

“So I’m not a hostage?” She asked again, the words coming off far lighter than before.

“No! Of course not, I would never-” He insisted, dropping his hands from his hair, stretching them towards her only to abort at the last second. Trish let his words and his actions sink in, taking her time to read them thoroughly, pondering.   

 

“Ok” 

“O-ok?”

“Yeah, we're good Mr. Stark, was just curious is all.”

 

“Curious-” He made an attempt to laugh, the sound coming out strained and distorted by unmistakable nerves. “Yeah” Trish confirmed with an impish smile, Tony stared long and hard, mouth agape before grinning madly in response. “Alright then cucciola, let’s get going then.” He took off, incorporating himself seamlessly with the growing New York traffic. Weaving his way down well-known streets, only fully stopping once the destination was reached. A brownstone, like the many others, littered all over New York, the difference being the neighborhood it was built in, and the higher up materials used in its construction. The place was for better off folks that much was obvious, and although it wasn’t the first time Trish had walked down better-paved streets than the ones she loitered around now, the subtle ostensity still managed to make her feel self-conscious.  

 

“Come on Piccola, this is our stop” Tony killed the engine and got out, wincing in pain as the motion jostled his shoulder. She moved to follow suit, clumsily opening the door and stumbling her way out. He took the lead, ambling his way to the building's opening,  the vision of power the man naturally cut, only tarnished by way of the constantly flowing blood. It had left behind an ugly crimson splotch on the finely threaded jacket, absolutely ruining it. Trish said nothing. 

 

The building proved to be an apartment complex, tall windows, and prettily pigmented bricks, with the standard staircase to lead way to a wooden door. Tony took the steps two at a time, and pressed the doorbell for room 4B, and didn't let up, he kept his thumb firmly planted on the nickel sized button. 

 

They waited, and waited, no one came to answer the door. 

 

“Lazy son of a-” Tony cursed under his breath, huffing and puffing his way down the stairsteps “-Come on,” he took hold of Trish’s hand and pulled her along. Prowling his way around the side of the building, and over to the fire escapes. The metal ladder was partially rusted, and to Tony’s dismay, far too high up to easily climb. He stretched his good arm and wrapped his hand around the chilling bar, pulling downward with force, the whole structure rattled, but the gears did not give, and the latter stood aloft. Trish stood behind him and observed, a frown deeply set between her brows. She turned her sight towards the alley, gaze landing on the beat up dumpster and collection of empty bottles. She glided over, with an idea in her mind.

 

“Which ones the apartment?” She asked, inclining her head up towards the sky. Tony glanced at her from over his shoulder, “Which ones the apartment?” she repeated, bending down to take hold of the neck of a bottle, thin fingers easily swinging it back and forth. Confusion melted into understanding, the growing tension visibly leaking off his shoulders. He struts his way to her side and pointed. “That one kid” Tony responded, Trish needed no further incentive. The bottle flew over their heads, and dusted them in a cloud of burgundy shards upon impact, Tony was quick to duck his head and tuck her against his side, shielding her as best he could. A large crack was left on the windows surface.

 

One beat,

Two beats,

Three beats passed.

 

The windows shutter was forced open, the barrel of a gun acting as the greeting party. 

 

“Who the fucks down there?!” a harried voice called, grating on Trish's nerves. Tony uncoiled himself from around her, and sauntered over, keeping Trish out of sight. “How about, your boss, is that a satisfying response?” The words dripped with sarcasm. 

 

“Tony?!” The disembodied voice incredulously intoned, the gun instantly dropped.

 

“The one and only, sunshine”

 

A portly man's upper torso forced its way out of the windows opening, closely cut curls up in disarray, striped pajama fully creased. Beaded eyes open in wonder. 

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes shifted left and right, cursoring the empty street. Tony huffed, “Oh, I don’t know Happy, guess I just woke up this morning and thought to myself, I should go out of my way just to say hello- _ what the hell do you think I’m here for Happ’s?! _ ” The man relentlessly exploded, allowing his frustration to become evident. It was there in plain sight, easy to read in Tony's frown, in the way his shoulders were drawn up again in hackles, in the way he lightly shivered from the cold starting to set in deep in his abused bones. But above all, it was present in the way the man on the window panicked. How he waves his arms through the air, hands spread out grasping at nothing, it was there growing and festering between the two, finding its release only at the others shouted admission, “I don’t know!” 

 

The words echoed and reverberated throughout the alley, Trish cringed, and drew further back, finding herself with nerves still far too raw. Not that it came as much of a surprise, considering the morning she’d had. Remembering, that had it not been for Tony intervening, she would have ended up in a newspaper headline, another nameless body in the long line of forgotten corpses. All courtesy of the Mafia families running and corrupting the city. The thought alone of a desolate May was enough to send her reeling, spinning fully out of control and head on into another panic attack, so she didn’t. She stays focused on the task, on her/t _ heir _ number one priority, and that was getting Tony the medical attention he was in desperate need off.  

 

There was a stillness in the air, the shouting match between both men arriving at a standstill, Trish, ever perceptive was quick to coin in on the changes. Then, surprisingly, Tony gave. His shoulders dropping in defeat. “Just- just get the ladder down Hap” It was an order, yet the words held no bite.

 

Happy was quick to comply. Trish found the sight of him squishing his extra bulk through the window oddly fascinating. There was no elegance, no refinement to the action, and still, regardless of this fact, the following minute fully enraptured her. It wasn’t that there's anything particularly special going on, quite the contrary, rather the normalness of the scene soothed her, grounded her even and made her believe even if just for a moment, that her world had not gone off and flipped on her. 

 

The man, Happy, her mind supplied, clambered his way down the escape and towards them, letting loose a litany of curses at his own struggle to get the ladder down. Why he hadn’t  just exited the apartment via the front door was a question left unanswered. Maybe, he found it more effort letting in a Mafia head and an urchin look alike through the entrance of the fancy building than just smuggling them through the back. Regardless of the answer, once the ladder was down and within reach Tony wasted no time angeling her forward. 

 

“Who’s the girl?” Happy asked, finally taking note of her presence. “None of your damn business Hap, just help her up.” and Hap did, he shut up and offered Trish his hand, it was both warm and sweaty, the former surprising her. “Thank you” she muttered, because May and Ben had raised her well and because society dictated it to be the polite thing to say. Happy offered a grunt in acknowledgment. 

 

She wasn’t allowed to wait for Tony, the limited space becoming confining with both her and Happy filling it up. So she got pushed, lightly, by a beefy hand in the direction of the remaining stairs and nonverbally encouraged to ascend. Seeing no further reason as to why not do just that, Trish climbed, awkwardly clanking her way, up, up, up and to the window. It was, not surprisingly still open; three floors below her Tony and Happy were struggling, poorly hushed bickering still making its way to her ears. 

 

Climbing through the windows frame was a task accomplished far smoother than what its proprietor had managed, and to hell if it wasn’t a sight to be seen. The interior was all rich wooden floorboards neatly cut and arranged in geometrical patterns, covered by a thick Persian rug, velvet overlaid chairs and a leather sofa  strategically strewn about. She drank it all in, the flamboyance it portrayed. 

 

“Kid, Trish,  _ help _ ” Tony called from outside the window, body leaning heavily on Happy’s, both men panting, necks and ears flushed red. A sense of fondness settled itself deep within her chest, it couldn’t have been more than a few hours since their inopportune meeting, and already she found herself caring for this apparent disaster of a man. So she reached out, bending over and offering herself as a stand for crutch, Tony took hold, Happy steadied him from behind, and through the window the man went, closely followed by a heavier set body. 

 

“Ok good, we’re finally in,” the wounded man huffed, “no thanks to you.” The final part being snappily directed towards Hogan. A sound of indignation followed. Trish ignored it, them, opting instead to maneuver Tony towards the closest chair, the man showed no restraint and allowed himself to be guided over, clomping down heavily on the green recliner. 

 

“Boss, you gotta turn over, I gotta see the damage.” Tony groaned, and like a petulant child made a fuss of the action. Trish helped, what little she could, and backed away soon after to give Happy the needed space to work. He peeled of Tony’s jacket, delicate despite being a heavier handed man, and promptly gaged at the sight. 

 

“Seriously?” Tony exclaimed. “You’re my fucking bodyguard, I literally pay you to deal with shit like this, and you’re queasy over a little bit of blood?!”

 

“-Sorry boss…” He truly sounded berated, but it wasn’t good enough, at least not in Trish’s mind. They had gone out of their way to reach this man’s house, and he was only proving to be inadequate for the task. Parker women were resilient if nothing else, so she did as she had been taught, and took charge of the situation. Taking hold of Happy’s arm, catching with it his attention, Trish looked him dead in the eye and asked.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of surgical pliers, bandages and disinfectant alcohol lying around?” 

 

“You know how to treat a gun wound?” Tony marveled. 

 

“Sort off,” she paused, mentally debating whether to disclose more personal information was safe, a quick glance at her hurt companions earnest eyes convinced her, swallowing down trepidation she continued. 

 

“My aunt, she’s a nurse, she uh, she taught me.”

 

“A nurse, is that what you want to be?” An odd intensity laced the others words.

 

Trish was caught off guard, tripped over her explanation. “Oh, uh no Mr. Stark, I-I wanna study biology and chemistry.”

 

“Your shitting me” Happy breathed, Trish drew back as if slapped, feeling all together bashful and foolish, Tony threw a murderous look, thankfully, Trish thought, not directed towards her.

 

“The hell would you know Hogan!” Tony grounded,  before rounding in on Trish, eyes ablaze with passion “Listen, kid, if you want to be a biologist or a chemist then you damn well go out there ‘n study, and become one, and damn everyone and anyone who dares get in your way.” 

 

It grew quiet after the incensed speech, Trish opting to say nothing, for no further words came her way, instead, she rewarded the man with the sincerest of smiles, a pretty blush bringing life to her slightly dimpled cheeks. A grandfather clock struck its dongs signaling the time to be 11:00 o clock. It was getting late and they were losing time, the longer the bullet stayed lodged inside the other man's body, the higher the risk of infection became. As if reading her mind Tony turned his head sharply to the side. 

 

“Get Strange.” 

 

“You sure?” Happy inquisitively asked

 

“Yeah, get that bastard over here.”

 

“On it.” Hap sidelined Tony and the chair with purpose, briefly pausing to sling a heavily set arm around Trish’s skinny shoulders, he pulled her along with him and out the apartment’s door.  

 

She'd question it further except, Tony was still wounded and bleeding on the other room. There was just no time to waste. So she swallowed down her trepidation and followed Happy out to the hall, she closed the door behind them and crossed the threshold to the one adjacent when prompt, golden guild number and letter elegantly placed to the right of the mahogany identifying the apartment as room 4C. She’d just finished reading the numbering when Happy was already knocking, three sharp raps that bounced back at them.  

 

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before the knob was turning and small green eyes were peering up at them, its owner a young looking girl with pretty brown hair held away from her face in a simple braid. Her eyes sparkling with recognition when settled on Happy. 

 

“Mr. Hogan!” she cried, opening the door all the wider. 

 

“Morning Ana.” The words sounding as pleasant as the man next to her seemed capable of. She didn’t blink, she fucking beamed as if that were the kindest anyone had ever talked to her.

 

“Think we could use your phone?” the tallest of the trio continued, body shifting minimally from one side to the other. 

 

“But of course!” Little Miss. Sunshine chirped, stepping back and pulling the door fully open with her. Trish envied her, if only slightly, for being so damn happy on such a hectic day, not that it was her fault of course. A warm hand settled itself of the small of her back, finding herself familiar by now with the others silent request she walked, the other girl closed the door behind her with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this weeks chapter, please stay tuned for more!
> 
> As always comments and kudos are highly welcome and appreciated, so feel free to spread the love! Happy start to the week! :D


	4. GIFTS

 

**Flushing, Queens 6:22 am**

 

After the phone call to one Dr. Stephen Strange had been made, her being the caller and Johanna, as Trish had come to learn was the other girl´s full name, acting as the point of call; she’d been whisked away. Her curiosity of the other man had been forcefully staved off by Tony’s flippant explanation of the Doctor being both unpleasant in character and unworthy of her acquaintance. Trish hadn’t been overly willing to buy into the explanation.

 

Still, she’d let it slide, and walked out of that building with a shifted perspective in regards to reality, her reality. Tony Stark proved to be just as huge of an enigma as she’d originally perceived, however, the depth of which, she had wrongly guessed. Happy grudgingly drove her back home, as was Mr. Starks request. Had she originally felt comfortable giving off her home address? No. Then again, she hadn’t really been given the choice. Neither of the occupants of the car had, and oddly enough, there was some kind of camaraderie induced solace to find in that. So after the awkward drive back to Queens and a round of even more awkwardly uttered thank-you’s and goodbye’s by both parties, she’d mentally summed the whole endeavor up as a once and only occurrence in her lifetime.

 

How wrong had she been.

 

The following Monday a package had been left at her and Aunt May’s doorstep. The neighbors either too honest or uncaring to try and take a peek at the package before it's proprietor had left it on its original spot. It came with a note, her name being written on it with block letters, all capitalized. May had only been able to throw her a contemplative look before rushing out of the apartment, afraid of being late for her shift. Trish, after checking the time on the nightstand clock went ahead and opened it.

 

Tastefully wrapped in tissue paper lay a coat. A beautiful dusty pink tinged ensemble of velvet fabric and fluffed up fur. The later lining the collar and sleeves, a sleek belt tied in a bow at the front was the final component. She picked it up, delicately taking hold of the garment by the shoulders, it flared out, opening on its own like a blooming rose, the bottom styled asymmetrically. She fell in love with it on sight, could easily envision herself walking down the street wearing it, feeling fully protected from the oncoming cold. Who the sender of the gift was posed no mystery to her, very few men could afford such luxuries, and she was an acquaintance of only one.

 

But regardless of that certainty, she didn’t dare put it on, just thinking of who the gift sender was, what this parcel of coveted dreams could come to signify was enough to put a pause to her daydreams. She’d helped him out of respect for what he’d done for her. Save her life. Tit for tat. Calling Strange had been the end of that, so her parading around in a coat she could never afford would only come to draw negative attention her way, and that would not do.

So being the reasonable young lady that she was, Trish opted instead to fold it and wrap it in the now crinkled paper it arrived in, silk ribbon and all, and made a mental note to take it back to its owner, or she faintly reasoned, the closest person to him she knew.

 

The gifts did not stop.

 

At first, May had written them off to being courting gifts from a secret admirer or a hidden sweetheart. Trish had blushed violently at the idea but hadn’t had the heart of the bravery to correct her. Each new finely wrapped parcel was more extravagant than the last. A set of pearl earrings with an obscenely long string as a necklace greeted her the following Tuesday morning. Come Wednesday the parted silk revealed a new evening dress, a shade of green so vivid she instinctively knew it would make her eyes pop and stand out like no other article of clothing she possessed ever could. She smiled, gave a small twirl then folded it back up. On Thursday her present came within a simple white box, CHANEL was stamped on its front in bold black letters, brown velvet suede leather elbow length flapper gloves. She’d felt faint.

 

All the gifts were appreciated, yet never worn. They found a home securely hidden beneath the crooked floorboards of the studio, right at the foot of the pull out sofa.

 

By Friday morning she was filled with trepidation of what other eccentricities Mr. Stark might have sent. What May placed on the tiny dinner table on her way back from a night shift had made her pause. Wrapped for the first time in simple brown paper lay neatly stacked research papers, all written and published by the same man, Max Ludwig Henning Delbrück. Any aspiring biologists knew by heart the name of the man, of what he’d done, what he was doing, and to be the receiver of such highly praised work, it left her speechless. Those she made no attempt to hide, she folded them as smartly as she could and put them between the pages of the thickest textbook she would be forced to carry to that morning's class.

 

By the time 3:15 rolled around Trish had already taken Midtown Highs steps two at a time and was waiting in queue behind a barrel-chested man at Delmar's. The deli was small and cramped and stuffy with the fumes let loose from the ovens and the body heat from the people bustling about. So naturally, she was used to it. The line of bodies kept moving and dispersing, the barrel man took his place at the counter and rattled off his monstrosity of an order before walking away. She was greeted, as was routine, by the owner of the little business himself. The scruffily bearded man smiled at her genuinely, unlike the way he had done to customers past.

 

“Good afternoon little Parker, here for the usual?” He succinctly asked, the heaviness of his accent thickening every word.

 

“Hello Mr. Delmar,” Trish smoothly replied, easily falling into the familiarity of pleasantries and easy banter. “a number 5 with pickles and the bread squeezed real flat.”

 

The scruffy beard man smiled, nodding his head in both approval and understanding before passing on the swiftly written order to the nearest working employee.

 

“So, how’s school been, any boys giving you trouble?” Mr. Delmar asked, quirking an eyebrow and leaning in closer to the cheeky girl. Trish choked on a laugh, the statement catching her off guard, not because the notion of having a suiter on her tail was absurd, but rather at how the only man fighting for her attention was more of a father figure, if even that. Of course, she was in no position nor did she hold any desire to say that out loud, instead she coquettishly bent her head closer towards his, the loose bangs curling and curtaining her face as she did and playfully purred “Not any that I can’t deal with all on my own.” With that said she backed off with a crooked grin and an impish wink,  gliding away at the call of her finished order.

 

“That a girl” the older man praised, sparing her retreating back a waning smile before turning to greet the newest customer in line.

 

Trish marched herself over to the closest vacated table and sat down, she was careful when unwrapping the greasy newspaper holding her sandwich, despite her drowning eagerness at just digging right in. A shadow passed over her, temporarily obscuring her light before retreating, the empty chair adjacent to her table was pulled out, and a man togged to the bricks filled it in. Trish looked up, big doe eyes catching on the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window and settled her gave on the one and only Tony Stark, a sight which oddly enough did not surprise nor frighten her. The man spared her a fleeting grin, one that was quick to wrinkle in obvious distaste.  

 

“See kid now this, this is what I don’t understand.” The words were articulated, made to sound as if said with exasperated disbelief, “I gifted you a perfectly good coat...so why aren't you wearing it?” Trish quirked an eyebrow, because really of all things possible to incite the man's disgust an old coat did it?

 

“It’s my uncle's coat.”

 

Tony stretched out, guffawing in apparent victory before bending wide over the tiny wooden surface and invading her space. “Well there we go, all the more reason to lose it and let the poor fellow have it back,” he insisted.

 

“I can’t” Trish shyly countered.

 

“Why not?” He pressed, eyebrows screwing over in confusion.

 

“I can’t give it back,” Trish began, biting her lower lip, worrying the flesh, allowing the seconds to tick by before she found the courage to finish whispering her sentence. “-because he’s gone.”

“Oh”

 

“Yeah, oh.”

 

Tony cursed violently under his breath, it almost seemed like that was all he could do around her. “I’m sorry” he hastily breathed, looking at her beseechingly. Trish nodded and mummed a faltered “Me too.”

 

An awkward silence settled itself between the two. Trish absently played around with the inked paper, smudging the printed letters further, her sandwich lay untouched, the heat slowly wisping away. Tony followed her lead and reaching over to idly thumb at the wrapping. Busybodies moved around the limited space, some towards the counter, others to the door, somehow willing to trade the stifling warmth for the brisk cold.  

 

“Thank you” Trish blurted, hesitant when in the presence of the other man but more than willing to disperse the growing tension, having found it more suffocating than the increasing heat. Tony looked up, quick as a whip, and graced her with a charmingly boyish smile, just as eager if not more to find safe common ground. “Your welcome,” He happily breathed, “ though I don’t really know what you're thanking me for, it’s not as if what I said isn’t anything you haven't heard before.” Trish chuckled lightly at that, and looked up at the man, properly meeting his eyes with her own.

 

“I didn’t mean for the condolences” She began, self consciously pulling back a loose strand.

 

“Oh?”  

 

“I also meant for the gifts, they´re lovely.”

 

Tony’s grin grew impossibly wider, tugging at the corner of his cheek and pulling it taught, the muscle pleasantly aching with the action. “Well, I’m glad you did, however between the two of us, which gift did you like best?”

 

“Mister Stark that’s an awfully rude question to ask!”

 

“Is it now?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Well I’m a shameless man, what can I say?”

 

Trish roared a boisterous sound that boomed loud and clear throughout the deli, her body unwillingly convulsing. It was a pleasant sight to behold; they looked right together, and though they were truly strangers to one another any onlooker would catalog the pair as a father and daughter. It was in the details really, in the way laughter came so easily for Trish when in the other's presence and in the way he looked at her, with warmth. A healthy combination of soft glances and subtle smiles so unmistakably full of a kind of love so foreign and far fetched to the man it scared him, because deep down Tony knew he was screwed, but in the most wonderful way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for sticking around or joining in!  
> Feel free to kudo or comment, both bring me life XD  
> See you next week! <3
> 
> And please take a look at this chapters art work by the amazing Nat! 
> 
> https://hereandnowwearealive.tumblr.com/post/183889316683/my-second-part-for-this-years-peter-tony-big
> 
> Edit:
> 
> Oh my God, ok so the absolute divine Doodlerooniee did some fan art for this chapter as well, please go check it out!! 
> 
> http://doodlerooniee.tumblr.com/post/184163337092/tumblr-really-out-here-revoking-my-artist-rights


	5. CATALYST

**Saks 5th Ave. 3:27 pm**

 

Trish kept on running into Tony, at Delmars for lunch, on her way to school, even on down days at the local park, the man was everywhere and he had no issue on making his presence known, at least to her. He would come to claim quite vehemently that all these meetings were by chance, but she knew better and so did he. These little rendezvous had quickly taken on a sweeter tone, one she would only under pressure bashfully admit made her feel as if she had a father figure of her own. No one would ever be able to replace what Ben had signified to her, but Tony was admittedly on a whole league of his own with his unconscious parenting, the man was a whirlwind of soft encouragements and costly gifts, ones he had thankfully toned done due to her insistence, or so she’d thought.

 

“You need a new dress” Tony blurted out of the blue, not that the idea was truly all that uninspired considering the pair found themselves walking and admiring the beauty that the fifth avenue presented. 

 

“You already gave me one” Trish serenely reminded, taking the time to let her eyes roam the pretty dresses and coats on display, she was by all means and purposes window shopping, an activity she rarely participated in. It had been Tony’s doing, as all their impromptu gatherings were. But what made this one stand out was his insistence on driving her outside of Queens, something which he had not done since their meeting weeks ago. 

 

“Yes I did, and you never wear it, which bodes the question, why? Was it too flimsy, or maybe the wrong brand?”  She whirled around, indignant, and flushed with a guilty sort of shame, very nearly making impact with a man speed walking with his nose deep in a newspaper. “Neither!” She squawked “I-I just don’t have a reason to wear it, it’s too elegant for any of the places I go to.” 

 

“Ah” he hummed, letting the cold turn his breath as visible as a trains steam trail. “Well, I happen to know the perfect place for you to wear it.” He peered at her from the corner of his eye, and deftly lowers his fedora, using its shadow to hide as they walked past a policeman.“Oh, and where would that be Mr. Stark?” She asked, careful to keep her tone quiet, discreet.

 

A married couple strut by, a baby carriage between the two, Tony briefly paused in his step, sparring the couple a second or two before continuing forward, a glimmer of longing was engraved in his eyes, one that only settled as his eyes met her own. Trish paid it no mind, by that point used to the man’s eccentricities. The next store they passed had jewelry on display, the diamonds encrusted in the rings large and geometrically cut to perfection, she was easily drawn. Trish practically skipped over to the large window and only just contained herself from planting her hands on the clear surface and leaning in for a closer look. Tony strolled over, always quick to follow and peered over her shoulder at what had caught his girls attention. 

 

“How about my engagement party?” Trish sharply looked up and stared at the man reflected back at her through the clear glass surface. “Your not serious are you?” She wobbled out “I mean, as much as I’d be honored to go, I-I just couldn’t!” Both moved and shifted to the side, in order to properly face each other, the appeal of glimmer forgotten. “Why ever not?” Tony pressed, Trish started and stared wide-eyed, with a plethora of thoughts running through her mind. In the end, only one surfaced from her physic. “Well, what on earth would Aunt May say?!”

 

…….

 

“Absolutely not!” May raged, knocking and clanging pots and pans into there designated place in what passed as a kitchen in their minuscule home. Trish had known, the moment Tony so much as uttered the idea that the whole endeavor would be a complete fiasco, maddeningly enough it was her being proven in the right what actually saddened her. 

 

“Mrs. Parker, I understand this is sudden, and it may come off as a shock but you see-” 

 

“I see nothing, the verdict is no and with that having been said,” May stalked her way to the front door, the skirt of her dress drifted menacingly behind her lithe body, brushing up dust from the floor, her hand held tight to the iron of the doorknob, her fury making it warm. She  pulled taught, allowing the wooden surface to swing freely and turned to face them both. “ _ -good day sir!” _ Neither Trish nor Tony moved, one due to fear of bringing forth further outrage, the other...pure stubbornness.

 

“My dear lady I must say, you are being terribly unreasonable” Tony finally exploded, all pretenses of manners and composer were thrown out the window as the man reared back on the worn out couch and allowed his limbs to splay out. Trish gaped, then promptly clamped shut, the click of her teeth audible in the suffocating silence. 

 

May’s hackles rose, a neighboring tenant opening his door drove the frazzled woman into action, what once swung open was clattered shut, the wooden frame further chipping its teal paint from the strain.    

 

“How dare you.” she began, stalking her way over to the leisurely seated man, “ _ How dare you, come into my home, critique on my performance as a guardian and  above all involve yourself with my niece! _ ” The woman shrieked into the others face, large glasses skewers and it’s lenses fogged from her labored breath. Tony held perfectly still, allowing the other the time to catch their breath, at the first indicator of stability he righted himself and climbed to his feet, the Italian leather of his shoes a stark contrast on the raggedy rug. He fixed the lapels of his suit jacket and straightened out creases in the sleeves, when fully satisfied of appearing presentable once again he let the full weight of his gaze fall on May, she would later rue to say it, but a shiver had run down her overly straightened spine. 

 

“Miss Parker, firstly I apologize for my previous words, I did not mean to insult, secondly I’d like to formally address my relationship to your niece,” the words rolled off his tongue seamlessly, each vowel clearly enunciated, the friendly carefree persona had been shed, “ I understand that I am the last person you’d like her to be around and well aware of the reputation my name carries, I am the one who built it after all.”  

 

He took an achingly slow step forward, further building the tension in the room and limiting what little space remained between he and May, her breathing became labored, stunted at a hearts beat. “However I must insist that you recognize the enormity of the opportunity I offer, just as my name carries a negative  _ connotation,  _ it just as easily draws in societies elite. What I am offering is a chance for your girl to move up in life, a chance to be among some of our generation's greatest minds, is that not what any parent wants for their child?” 

 

May for what Trish would say was the first, had looked absolutely stunted. No further protests escaped from her lips, the lithe woman did little more than stare and stand in silent contemplation, mulling over the others words. “If, if I were to entertain the idea of my girl going to one of your parties, do you swear it will be safe?” Trish who had thus far remained as remote as possible from the two in an act of self preservation pranced over towards her aunt in unmasked glee. She took hold of the older woman’s hands and squeezed.

 

“May, are- _ are you agreeing to let me go?!”  _

 

“I said  _ entertain _ the idea, not outright agree to it!” May scolded, her voice coming off shrill, Trish cringed at the volume, curling up on the spot, but refused to back down knowing from experience that once a chink in the older woman's armor was presented it was best to push onward. 

 

“Still, your considering it” She weaseled on, coyly venturing forward invading her space just as Tony had, mirroring the others assertion of dominance in a quickly winning battle of wits and wills. 

 

“W-Well I mean, if what Mister Stark implies is true then, it really would be the opportunity of a lifetime” May relented, the poor woman becoming flustered. “Then it's decided!” Tony joyfully joined, going so far as to drape his arms over both women and reeling them into a group hug. 

 

“Cucciola, get ready for the party of a lifetime.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for joining in! As always thank you for your time and i really hope you’re enjoying this fic as much as I am!
> 
> Feel free to comment I love reading your thoughts and opinions on the story! Or drop a judo on your way back to the main menu page! 
> 
> Ps. Have a great week! <3
> 
> Edit: April 18
> 
> Hey guys so I didn’t have a chance to update this week and honestly I don’t think I’ll be able too next week. I’m out of town and without my laptop, but as soon as I get back home I’ll work on getting the next chapter up! Thank you for understanding and sorry for the wait!

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to extend a special thank you to my fabulous betas Shoyy and Batsy, as well as to my killer artist Nat! Any comments or kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Heres the link to this chapters artwork, please check it out!
> 
> https://hereandnowwearealive.tumblr.com/post/183387341423/my-part-for-this-years-peter-tony-big-bang


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